


I Reject This Tragic Backstory

by shouldhaveknownbetter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But mostly feelings, F/M, If I do say so myself, MJ POV, Post-College AU, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home Mid-Credits Scene, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home Mid-Credits Scene compliant, Semi-explicit sex, Spideychelle, Swearing, Trigger Warning: Cancer, almost no Ned, cancer with a happy ending, meeting up after many years, plus some big mom energy, slight angst, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26533324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shouldhaveknownbetter/pseuds/shouldhaveknownbetter
Summary: It’s MJ and Peter’s first date in NYC – their only date – after returning home from Europe and the unimaginable happens: Peter’s secret identity is exposed, and he’s accused of murdering the very villain he just defeated. It’s also the last time MJ sees Peter. He disappears, whisked away by the protective arms of SHIELD or the Avengers or whatever secretive group is tasked with saving the world these days. Resigned to his choice, Ned and May accept that Peter left to keep them safe but MJ only rages at her powerlessness. Time passes and she moves on, determined that this sad ending of this chapter won’t determine the course of her life. Years pass and the world moves on – MJ moves on.  Then an unexpected trip home leads to a chance encounter with a near stranger – Peter Parker.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 24
Kudos: 62





	I Reject This Tragic Backstory

**Author's Note:**

> For Ebony10, who hasn't read it yet because she's busy trying to save the world.
> 
> And for teachers everywhere. I see you and I appreciate you.

“See you later,” he told her.

And then he leapt away. Everyone knows the rest. The video. The manhunt. The murder accusation. The disappearance. Peter Parker vanished that day. No one saw him after that, including Michelle Jones.

It took weeks – months – for her to believe that it really was going to end that way. Ned and May Parker were quietly resigned, telling MJ that they didn’t know where he was, that they didn’t know if he was ever coming back, but that he was safe, that much they’d been told. No one who really mattered was telling MJ anything.

MJ refused to accept that this was going to be her tragic backstory. The summer between junior and senior year was meant for planning out your college apps, taking the SAT one more time if your score wasn’t quite up to snuff (though MJ’s _was_ ), for beefing up your extracurriculars, for getting into a little good trouble, for staying out late and talking about the endless possibilities after graduation, for maybe falling the rest of the way in love. It wasn’t meant for begging various extra-legal organizations to just please tell her where her not-quite-boyfriend had gone.

On August 17th she got a postcard.

_Dear MJ,_

_I’m so sorry but I’m not coming back. I wish everything could be different, but it’s not. You need to stop looking for me. I’m not okay, but I’m safe and if staying away from you and Ned and Aunt May keeps you all safe too, then that’s what I’ll do._

_Peter_

It was definitely his disastrous handwriting. The picture on the postcard was from the Empire State Building, and it was postmarked in Manhattan. Thus, no trail to follow. Classy.

MJ put the postcard and that stupid necklace in a box and then made sure to lose the box.

The public furor died down and J. Jonah Jameson moved on to another target. There was a brief revival of interest when they went back to school in September, and some enterprising journalist decided to interview some of Peter’s classmates. She wasn’t sure who pointed him in her direction, not Ned certainly. Maybe Flash. Probably Brad. But the dude who tried to sidle up to her as she came off the train didn’t waste any time. “You were Peter Parker’s girlfriend when he disappeared, weren’t you? Do you think he did it? Do you think he’s a murderer?”

MJ gave him one long contemptuous glance while she felt around in her coat pocket. Then she pepper sprayed him. He didn’t have a follow-up to that, and never bothered her again.

That was one of the many problems with disappearing. By going silent and dropping off the face of the earth, Peter had pretty much admitted to the Spider-Man thing since Spider-Man had vanished from the streets of NYC at the same time. And Peter not fighting the murder accusation? Yeah, that didn’t look so great either. Innocent until proven guilty might have only worked for the days before the internet and probably not even then.

Flash did approach her, one day in the hallway. “Was it true?” he asked.

MJ didn’t roll her eyes or snort derisively. “Yes, to the Spider-Man thing. No, to the murder. It was a doctored video.”

Flash nodded sharply, once. “I knew it.” And they never talked about it again.

*

Once, MJ tried to talk to Ned. “Do you ever hear from him?” she asked one fall afternoon in AP Physics, apropos of nothing.

“What? No.”

“Really?” MJ didn’t believe that.

“Do you seriously think he’d contact me and not you?”

This should be obvious to Ned, but MJ felt she had to spell it out. “You’re his best friend. He and I were next to nothing. A crush that might have been something if he hadn’t thrown his whole life in the trash.”

“What? That’s not what he did. He’s keeping us safe,” Ned insisted, loyal to the end. Past the end.

MJ wasn’t going to sugarcoat it. “He made this choice for all of us, _without_ asking, and dropped us like we were nothing. If we had meant anything to him, he would have respected us enough to ask us what _we_ wanted. To at least say goodbye.”

“Wow, MJ.” Ned was shocked. “That’s so harsh. You know Peter. That’s not how he is _at all_.”

“I thought I knew him. But he made a decision on my behalf – for my own good – like every other condescending patriarchal jackass out there, so I guess I didn’t actually know him at all.” She’s breathing hard at the end of this and wow, it looks like she’s not actually over anything after all.

“Peter isn’t like that. You know he just wants to keep us safe.” He’s shaking his head.

“He wanted to feel like whatever happens isn’t his fault. He didn’t care what _we_ wanted. And maybe we knew him, but everything’s changed now.” MJ stood up from where she was sitting next to Ned and moved to a desk at the back of the room. They didn’t speak again. MJ avoided him until graduation. It wasn’t as hard as it should have been.

MJ left NYC. She got into Empire State, Columbia, Boston University, Stanford, and a few others. She decided on BU, spent two years abroad, first in Tokyo, then in Lagos. She thought about Peter only sometimes: the first time she kissed someone else, on the occasions that the Avengers did something newsworthy that she couldn’t ignore, and when she irrationally wouldn’t agree to swing through Prague or London on the backpacking trip she was planning with her then-girlfriend. She graduated in five years and then decided to teach English as a second language in Seoul.

Then, her mom got sick.

“I’m fine, Michelle. Don’t you _dare_ waste money on a full-price ticket home,” her mom says over the phone during one of their early morning (for MJ) calls. But then she coughs, and MJ can hear the wrongness of her lungs across two oceans. She books a flight home for the next week, quits her teaching job, and moves back into her childhood bedroom.

Stage two cancer. Operable, good chance of recovery. MJ sits in the doctor’s office listening and rages at her father (long since in the wind) and his ten cigarette a day habit. It couldn’t be this polluted city or her mother’s commute through the vapors of industry because that isn’t something she can fight. It needs to be something with a face that MJ can hate.

“Michelle,” her mom says, on the Monday of the second week that she’d been back home. “You have to get out of here and find something else to do besides taking me to my appointments and following me around asking me how I’m feeling. I will straight up murder you if you don’t find something else to do and leave this house once in a while.”

“I’m here to help you,” MJ says, her voice muffled since she’s waist-deep in the cabinet next to the stove, rearranging the nonsense she found there. “Do you really need two roasting pans? No, you do not.”

Her mother closes her eyes. “If you don’t leave the house right now, I swear to god I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“Fine. Okay.” MJ scoots back away from the cabinet and raises her hands in surrender. “I’ll go out, find a nice café with wi-fi and start applying for jobs. Also, you know you shouldn’t be using plastic in the microwave. It’s so toxic. It can’t be helping your cancer.”

“Please get out of here. I love you, child, but I’d forgotten how exhausting you are.”

MJ shoves on her boots, finds her coat, and throws the strap of her laptop bag over her shoulder. “I have my phone. Call me if you start feeling at all dizzy or if you’re hungry. I can get you food, or tea, or whatever you want. Don’t forget that you have to take your medication in two hours. There’s an alarm set on your phone, but I’m going to text you to remind you, just in case.

“Go away now, or I’m going to change the locks,” her mom says through gritted teeth.

“Okay, bye!” MJ chirps and skips down the uneven cement steps of her mother’s tiny porch, turning to walk towards the nearest retail area she’d remembered from her high school days. There’s gotta be a reasonable coffee shop left somewhere nearby, right? Surely one of them had survived the post-blip economy and the pandemics? Or else another had risen in its place? Coffee shops were eternal. There must be someplace where she can plug in long enough to give her mother some time to regain her calm. 

As she walks, MJ feels light and hopeful almost, despite her mother’s diagnosis, despite being unemployed and back sleeping in a room that still has all her high school artwork and protest posters on the walls. It’s almost like how she feels exploring a new city, in a new country. She doesn’t know anyone who was still here in Queens, or NYC as a whole. As far as she knows, all her high school classmates had moved on – not that she still speaks to any of them, but one _hears_ things.

Ned is in grad school somewhere, working on a PhD in something computer-y. Cindy is…out in California? Also in grad school? Flash had become the influencer that he’d always dreamed of being and might…. actually be in Manhattan somewhere (better double check on that for avoidance purposes.) Betty had long since decamped for DC, undergrad and law school at Georgetown. And MJ never had any other friends, unless you wanted to count the librarian who’d always remembered her name when she’d come to check out her usual Friday night haul. Come to think of it, maybe MJ would swing by and see if Ms. Robinson still worked at the local branch…it would be completely fantastic to see her again.

MJ rounds the corner from her relatively quiet side street to the busier cross street and runs smack into someone. Someone built like the proverbial brick shithouse.

“Holy shit,” MJ says, completely involuntarily, as she bounces off this unexpected obstacle and starts to tumble to the ground.

“Whoa,” says the other person involved in their head-on collision. “Sorry! I’ve got you!”

MJ’s fall is arrested by two hands tight on her upper arms. Her breath had whooshed out of her on impact and she feels herself gasp. And then her eyes land on the face of the person who had caused their wreck and then rescued her. And then she gasps again, her breath hitching loudly in her throat.

“Peter?”

The frown of concern wipes from his face in an instant as all his features slackened in – surprise? fear? disbelief? – some emotion that _isn’t_ happiness, that was for fucking sure.

The hands on her arms tightened painfully. “MJ?” Peter whispers. “Shit.”

“Yes, that’s actually how I’m often greeted. ‘It’s MJ. _Shit_.’” She hears herself speaking as if from a great distance, and she’s almost angry with herself. _This is what you say when you see Peter Parker for the first time in seven years?_ _How inane._ Where is her eloquent rage? Her cool and cutting disdain? Better yet, take a page out of one of those books her mother loves to read and give the cut direct – just keep walking.

“MJ?” he repeats. His face still hasn’t recovered. And it’s definitely his face. MJ doesn’t doubt it for a second. He’s wearing a black knit hat tugged down over his ears and he looks older – _old_. Not the fresh-faced cutie from high school, but a face that’s seen too much sun and care. He seems bigger too, not taller, but broader and definitely more solid, as the strain in her neck from their collision can attest.

“Yes,” she says, but patiently this time. She didn’t think she’d changed _that_ much. Her hair is shorter than high school, but pulled back in a messy bun, so not so terribly different. She’d like to think she dresses better, but it’s not like he could notice that what with her bundled up against the winter. And she’s willing to bet that her face is wearing the exact same expression of judgment and disdain that she’d shown him countless times before.

“Oh, _no_.”

“Yeah, fuck you too.” MJ wrenches her arms down to break his grip, but unsurprisingly (radioactive spider bite!) this doesn’t work. “Is this an abduction? Let me go.”

He instantly releases her, and his arms fall to his sides. “Ohmigod, it really is you. I wasn’t supposed to – I thought I wouldn’t – I’m not supposed to be here. No one is supposed to know I’m here.”

“If I promise not to tell anyone, can we end this stupid conversation and go our separate ways?” Her anger at his confusion and horror is drowning out all the questions that had bubbled up. _Where the fuck have you been? What the fuck happened to you? How could you do that to me? How are you here now?_

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry. This is an incredibly stupid conversation. But I can’t just…. I need you to come talk with me right now. Privately. _Please._ ”

“Um, _no_.” MJ sneers. “I will absolutely not go anywhere with you. Now or ever. Good _bye_.” She swerves to go around him on the sidewalk, ready to get far, far away from this confusing stranger who is wearing the face of the boy she once knew.

A hand on her arm spins her around and she’s not surprised, because if it’s not actually Peter, then it’s the ghost of Spider-Man, _apparently_. Or his mercenary alcoholic older brother, maybe.

“Please, MJ. Please just come talk with me. Aunt May’s house is just down there.” He points back the way she came. “She’s probably still home if that makes you feel any better. Please.”

MJ looks down at his grip on her elbow. “I thought she had an apartment. Isn’t that where you lived before?”

“Yeah, but she moved a couple years back. Detached house with a yard. Down the street.” He gestured back the way MJ came in the direction of her mom’s house.

“Nice. My mom is in a duplex. Patio garden.” _Oh, wow. Really brilliant, MJ. You finally see your long-lost superhero almost-boyfriend and you’re going to talk real estate? Way to hone in on what’s really important._

“Yeah, I know.”

MJ’s gaze shot back to Peter’s face. “How do _you_ know that?”

“Come talk to me and I’ll tell you,” he volleys back.

MJ shakes her head, but she’s wavering. Appeals to her curiosity still work. But… “Keep your hands off me and I’ll think about it.”

Peter releases her again, taking a step back but only one. “Please,” he says again. “It’s really important. _Please_.”

If this were the Peter she once knew, MJ knows that he’d be begging because he really doesn’t want to overpower her and make her go with him. But who knows with this near-stranger? All she knows is that he’s not walking away. This time. Instead of feeling threatened, MJ maybe feels a little powerful here.

“Lead on,” she says. He’s not suspicious of her sudden capitulation the way he should be…perhaps not the way he might once have been.

They walk silently two blocks to a small brick house with a neat yard and enclosed porch. Peter bounds up the steps and unlocks the door which he holds for MJ. Once inside he bellows, “May! Are you still here?” He walks through to the kitchen with MJ trailing behind him.

The only response comes from a large orange cat who streaks past them to an empty food dish and looks sorrowfully into its depths, before turning an accusing gaze on Peter.

“I’m sorry, I thought May would still be here. I really did. I didn’t mean to tell you she’d be here so you’d feel safe and then –” Peter starts.

“It’s fine,” MJ cuts him off. Hearing him babble is somehow worse than seeing his face.

“I know May fed you this morning,” Peter says to the cat with disgust.

“Peter…” MJ began. “I know you didn’t just bring me back here to introduce me to your aunt’s cat…”

“No! I – I need to try to explain. And to ask you not to tell anybody you saw me. Beg you really.” He pulls off his hat, and MJ sees that his hair is so short it’s ugly, cut for utility, not looks.

“Look, I promise I won’t run to TMZ or whomever. And when I talk to my therapist about you, I’ll leave out the whole you-used-to-be-Spider-Man-thing and just say you were some guy who broke my heart in high school. That should cover it.”

Peter stops wringing his knit hat in his hands. “I broke your heart?”

MJ shrugs. _Duh_. “Of course.”

“Oh. I didn’t…I’m _so_ sorry. About that. About a lot of things.”

MJ folds her arms over her chest. She waits, but he doesn’t add anything to that, just hangs his head. “Peter…” she says softly. “What happened to you?”

He looks up and tries a smile. “Got accused of murder and my secret identity was exposed. They promised me you’d be safe, Ned and Aunt May would be safe, if I left.”

“Thanks for the recap. Yeah, I got that much. And _then_ what? And why are you here now?”

He shrugs. “Do you want to sit down?”

“Okay.” MJ drops into one of the chairs around the kitchen table and slides off her coat. This doesn’t feel like a kidnapping and she’s getting the impression that she’s going to be here a while. “Got anything to drink?”

*

So, MJ listens as Peter sketches out the last few years. How when he left her, he was scooped up and rushed to a safe house, passed from official to official as the lawyers tried to come up with a way to defuse Quentin Beck’s accusation.

“They said I could try to brazen it out, but that it was risky. They couldn’t guarantee that I’d come out of it able to go back to my life. Or that I wouldn’t somehow have to stand trial.”

“But there was absolutely no evidence but that video!” MJ leans forward as she spits out the words. There’s a grumbly sort of yowl from her lap where the cat had taken up residence, furrying up her pants and, she _imagines_ , supporting her emotionally. She pets it absently but doesn’t soften the furious look she’s giving Peter. She’d had this argument with herself four million times _that_ summer, less as the years went by, but it was still well-traveled ground. “Everyone involved knew he was a fraud by then end! Who was going to bring charges?”

Peter shrugs. “It’s not that clear-cut. He was working with a team and they were in the wind. It wasn’t worth the risk to Aunt May, to Ned, to you.”

“I can’t believe that you just gave up,” MJ says in a low voice. Because she’s been wanting to say that for _years_ now. “I was so angry at you for not even trying to fight.”

“ _Was_ angry or _are_ angry?” Peter tilts his head to the side in that birdlike way that’s so familiar that MJ twitches from the shiver that runs down her spine.

“What do _you_ think?”

“If I had to guess…you’re still pretty pissed at me. All the therapy in the world couldn’t save me from that.”

“But that’s what you _did_. You guessed. You didn’t even talk to me about whether or not I’d want you to throw away your life on my behalf. How did your aunt feel?”

Peter sets his mouth in a line. “She wanted me to be safe.”

“ _Were_ you safe? Because maybe you stopped being Spider-Man, but I know you didn’t stop going out there. I kept seeing you on tv, in clips from those disasters the Avengers keep causing or saving us from or whatever. They never identified you, but you didn’t fool me. You got a new boring costume, you stopped using the webs, whatever. It was still you.”

MJ hears his quick indrawn breath. What? Like it was hard to recognize him? Even under a mask and in a different suit? The guy seriously underestimates how distinctive his ass is.

“You can’t tell anyone you saw me,” he says abruptly. “I’m not even supposed to be here. When I left, that first year, I agreed that I wouldn’t even come back to visit May. But time passed and it didn’t seem like the risk was as great. I’ve been visiting a couple times a year recently. But part of the deal was that I wouldn’t contact anyone.”

“That’s good, that you’ve been visiting your aunt,” she says softly, and the cat starts purring as she absently starts to scratch it behind the ears. When she _did_ think about Peter over the years, after she’d reaffirmed how angry she was with him, she’d thought about how lonely he must be, away from Ned and his aunt, among shitty superheroes who never bothered to have secret identities or tried to have normal lives, so didn’t see anything wrong with manipulating teenagers into giving up theirs. “Have you talked to Ned since…?”

Peter just shakes his head.

MJ looks down at the cat quickly, and she’s sad, just so sad for Peter. This was the chance that she’d once fantasized about, the chance to tell him how big of a mistake he’d made, to eviscerate him for his choices and for hurting her, and now her heart just aches for him.

“Do you promise not to tell anyone? That I’m here?”

MJ nods. “I promise. Who would I tell anyways?”

“You don’t talk to anyone from school?” There’s a long pause. “Ned?”

“Nope. I’ve barely been back since high school graduation. I’ve lived abroad and just got back because my mom got sick.” She realizes he’s nodding. “Wait. You knew that? And you said that you knew my mom lived nearby? What’s going on?”

“Oh?” For the first time, he smiles. “You didn’t know?”

*

MJ slams back into her mother’s house. “MOM.”

No answer. She checks all the rooms before heading out back to the little patio. Despite the chill January air, her mom is sitting at the tiny table, an unlit cigarette tucked between her fingers.

“MOTHER!”

“Oh, quit your yelling. I’m not smoking it. Just feeling it.”

“You have lung cancer.” MJ lunges forward and snatches the cigarette away.

“Yeah, I’m aware.” Her mother wraps her coat a little tighter around herself. “What’s got you all pissy?”

“You didn’t tell me you were friends with May Parker!”

MJ’s mother throws back her head and laughs. “Oh, is that all? Nope, I sure did not. Didn’t want to bring up any bad associations with that boy of hers. You haven’t been back here in years. I didn’t see any reason that you had to know.”

“You helped her find that house, so you’d be neighbors! And you’ve been telling her about me!”

“What’s so wrong with that? Can’t someone be proud of their daughter? Brag a little now and then?”

MJ throws herself into the other faux-wrought iron chair. “This feels like a betrayal,” she grumps.

“ _Pftttt._ You can’t tell me who to be friends with. If you’d come home more often, maybe I’d have mentioned it, but since you’ve been running around the world for so long, there’s plenty of stuff that you’ve missed.”

“Like you _smoking_?” MJ waggles the cigarette.

“No. That’s just me being nostalgic. Haven’t smoked since your dad left. Can’t really stand the smell. But it reminds me of a time and place. Maybe you understand that sort of thing.” She shrugs. “Anyway. So, I talked to May Parker about you? So what? She wanted to know. She always regretted what happened with Peter. I think she’s missed him dreadfully over the years and hearing about you gave her some glimpse into what might have been. What he’d missed out on. College and whatnot.”

 _Ugh, why not just stab me in the heart, mom. It would be cleaner_ , MJ thinks. “Fine, whatever” is what she says.

MJ’s mom sighs. “Well, now that you know, I don’t see any reason to pretend anymore. May comes by some mornings. I told her to stay away while you were here, but since you know, I don’t see why I should keep her from coming by now.”

“You could have just told me, Mom. I’m not going to have some sort of breakdown if I see her. I’ll be polite.”

Her mom was watching a cardinal at the birdfeeder while they talked, but now she turns her piercing gaze on her daughter. “So, then you’re _done_ crying your eyes out over Peter? I know you were just a little teenager at the time, but those things can still hurt. Especially if you never get a chance to get you know, _closure_.”

“…Mom…” she says. She didn’t know her mom had _noticed._ MJ had thought she’d been so cool, so chill, keeping her emotions in check until she’d been locked alone in her room. To the rest of the world, she’d been angry, only admitting the heartbreak to herself. Because, how _dare_ she feel so hurt? She and Peter had been friends, barely anything more, just the promise of something that was never fulfilled. _I really like you_ , he’d said. A few kisses, his one big secret, a necklace – not enough to justify the loss she felt, or at least that’s what she told herself. _Stop it. You didn’t get close enough to him to feel this sad. You’re exaggerating this. Snap out of it._ She’d repeated it like a mantra every time she felt like she was about to be washed away by feelings she didn’t think she had any right to claim. _Snap out of it_. But they’d been friends before anything else, and she’d never been able to talk herself out of her loss.

Her mother waves a hand. “You don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want to. But I know that’s part of why you didn’t stay in the city for college. I don’t think you made bad choices, but I do think you’re lying to yourself if you can’t admit how much of what you’ve done has been influenced by losing Peter.”

MJ doesn’t answer her mother, lets the silence just stretch.

Good thing she’s just promised Peter that she wouldn’t tell anyone that she’d seen him back in Queens. And did their little chat count as ‘closure’? Well, it had _better_ count because that was certainly all she was going to get, wasn’t it?

Right?

*

MJ half believes that she’s gotten her best and only chance at putting Peter firmly behind her until 12:30 that night when she realizes that the sound that she thinks is a tree branch blowing against her window wasn’t actually a tree branch. It’s Peter, politely tapping.

“This is extremely creepy, you know,” she says as she slides up the window. He’s stuck to the side of the house and gives her a jaunty little wave. She’s trying to play it cool because she’d spent the rest of the day analyzing their conversation and telling herself she was never going to see him again, trying out how that felt. Not good, as it turns out. Pretty damn awful, if she’s honest.

“Yep. I’m sorry.” He gives an apologetic shrug. It’s still weird to see a gesture she recognizes from fluffy, teenage Peter on the body of this broad-shouldered adult.

“You could have just come in through the front door. I’d have come up with some excuse for my mom. Or just waited until she was asleep. She turns up Real Housewives all the way and nods off. She’d never hear you.” _Stop running at the mouth, MJ,_ she tells herself. 

“Can I come in?” Peter asks.

“Um, why?” _Much_ better. Much more hostile. Quite the cover for her actual squishy feelings.

“I wanted to talk. Some more. If that’s okay.” He holds his breath, waiting for her answer.

MJ debates saying something cool and cutting, to try to hurt him like he hurt her. To make him understand just how shitty it felt to lose him all those years ago. But their conversation this afternoon siphoned away some of her resentment and now she’s left feeling just…fond. She’s wondered about him, worried about him, and now he’s _here._

“Yeah, come in. No remarks about the décor. I haven’t been home much since graduation.” MJ tries to close her suitcase and shoves some laundry back into a basket to clear off her bed.

Peter steps carefully over the windowsill and into her room, then looks around. “I’m imagining teenage you in here.”

 _I imagined teenage you here too_ , MJ says silently and tries not to leer too obviously at him. He’s still all dressed in black, nothing tight like his suit used to be, but he still looks damn good. Out loud she says, “Someday my mom will downsize, and I’ll have to come clean this place out, but until then I’m leaving it as a shrine to my former self.”

“May I?” he asks, indicating the bookshelves.

“Knock yourself out.” MJ flops onto her bed and watches him read titles. She hopes he’s impressed. All of her college books ended up here too. There was no way she was lugging them around the world and of course, she’s never going to get rid of them.

He tilts his head to read titles. “I feel like I’m getting a peek at the contents of your brain. You’ve really read all these?”

“Almost all of them. I never did get into _Moby Dick_ , but never wanted to admit defeat.”

“So, you really read this one?” he asked, pulling _We Flew Over the Bridge_ from the shelf. “It looks like a picture book, but it says it’s a memoir?”

“Yep. You don’t know Faith Ringgold?” He shrugs. “Borrow it. My brain is definitely carpeted in her stuff.”

“Then I want to read it, if you really don’t mind.” 

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. But you’d better bring it back.” MJ tries to play it off like she’s joking, but Peter doesn’t fall for it.

“Gonna make me sign for it in blood?” He shoots her a teasing grin.

“Don’t test me.” She narrows her eyes. “I know where you live. I’ll hold your aunt hostage or something if I don’t get it back.”

“May would probably want to read it too. And this?” He had plucked another book from the shelf, _Crossing Waters, Crossing Worlds: The African Diaspora in Indian Country._ “Is this just here to impress people or have you actually read it?”

“Of course, I read that one. That wasn’t even for a class, I read it for fun.”

Peter sighs and puts the book back. “I can’t remember the last time I read anything for fun.”

“Wow. That sounds like a super shitty way to live.”

“It’s not. It wasn’t. It just wasn’t what I had planned. You know.” He attempts a crooked smile.

“No, I really do not know. I don’t know anything about you besides what you said today. Look, you’re obviously here because you don’t mind explaining stuff. Peter…just tell me what happened to you. And how did you end up back here?” She pats the other end of the bed. “I’ll sneak back downstairs and get snacks if you want to totally unburden yourself.”

“That sounds…nice.” He walks hesitantly over to the spot at the end of the bed that she’d indicated and pauses. “Are you sure?”

MJ rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” She hops to her feet. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She tiptoes downstairs and grabs a bag of popcorn and some sodas. Nothing too hard because she doesn’t want to lose her head completely and try to take a bite out of him later. Then she scurries back upstairs, half expecting to find him gone.

But no, he’s still sitting primly on the end of the bed, his hands clasped in front of him and his shoulders rigid.

“Relax, Peter. Pretend you like me. You _used_ to like me.” MJ curls up at the headboard end and hands him a soda.

“I do like you! I just…” He catches her sly smile. “You’re messing with me.” He ducks his head. “I missed this. You.” He raises his eyes again and looks straight at her.

“Then why’d you leave?” MJ says bluntly. “No, I know what you said. Protecting us. Yada, yada, yada. Such bullshit. Anyone with the resources and money of the Avengers and Stark Enterprises could have fought those charges. _Someone_ manipulated you into thinking that was your only option. _Multiple_ someones, probably. They took a scared teenager who wouldn’t do what they wanted and turned his fears against him – _your_ fears against _you_. They convinced you that you needed them more than they needed you and it was completely fucked up.” MJ’s breathing hard by the end of this, all her fury has returned red-hot. But it isn’t Peter she’s angry at, not this time.

“Wow.” Peter rubs a hand over his face. “That’s amazing to hear you say that. Because it took me _years_ to finally realize what they’d done. At the time I was so grateful, so frightened, that it seemed so natural and right that since I cared so much that I’d just walk away from everyone. And it wasn’t terrible. I did so many cool things and met so many great people. But they got me just how they wanted me, isolated and without any other ties. I was there and ready for every threat and I didn’t have any conflicts. They couldn’t have built a better asset if they’d special ordered me.”

“Fuck, Peter. That sounds so awful.” Without thinking, MJ leans towards him to put her hand on his arm, and he finally slumps a little.

“It wasn’t. Truly. I’ve been all over the world and helped a lot of people. You said you saw us on tv? There were so many things that never even got whispered about. I’ve even been to space, other planets. Wakanda, even.”

Okay, so that’s pretty cool, but she’s sure as fuck not going to admit it at this moment.

“But…?” she prompts.

“But…I never got to do all the stuff that I’d planned. Senior year. College. I lost Ned. I lost you. I got to talk to May once a week on a secure phone for the first year and then I insisted on more. They knew they had me at that point, so it wasn’t much of a fight. I didn’t have anything to go back to.”

MJ doesn’t know what to say. She’s just welling up with sadness and can’t think of anything else to do other than pull him into an awkward sideways hug. “Why didn’t you talk to me? Before you left?” she says into his shoulder.

“Because I was stupid,” he answers promptly.

“Not gonna argue there.”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t let me go, and I had already decided I couldn’t stay. You loved conspiracies and were so suspicious of everything. I just knew I wouldn’t be able to fool you or win any argument. But you know, in retrospect, that might have actually saved me, so yeah, I should have said goodbye or something.” He pauses, then. “The truth is…the person I was most protecting was me. If anything happened to Ned, to May, to you…I couldn’t have come back from that.”

MJ almost can’t bear hearing this. She hides her face and breathes in the smell of his shirt for a minute.

“I did try to find you,” MJ admits into his shoulder.

“I know.”

MJ sits up and shoves him away. “You _knew_?”

“Yeah, they’d tell me every time and then ask what I wanted to do about it. I told them not to respond because if you got any kind of hint of pushback or interest, you’d absolutely never quit.”

“Fuck you,” she whispers, thinking of all the research she’d done, all the people she’d contacted, all the facilities she’d tried to sneak into.

“Was I wrong?”

“No.” MJ’s still sad for him, but she’s furious again, _what_ a nauseating combo. “Why are you here _now_?”

He shrugs. “I missed you.”

“Fuck _you_.” She says it louder now.

He gives her a sad half smile. “I deserve that, I think.”

“Peter, you didn’t deserve _any_ of this. Yeah, I’m not going to pretend that I haven’t been angry at you. Furious, even. But made the best decision you could as a scared kid. I just wish…” She stops.

Peter waits, as if he wants to hear her finish that sentence. Then he says, “When did you get so compassionate and level-headed? I figured that you’d gut me and leave me to bleed out on the pavement if I ever saw you again.”

“I was considering it…”

“But…” he prompts.

“But…since you said it first, I missed you too.”

They smile at each other, tiny sad smiles.

“Now,” MJ flops into a more comfortable position on the pillows behind her. “Tell me everything about space. And Wakanda.”

*

And so, they start to fill each other in on the past seven years.

Peter tells his story all out of order, starting with space, jumping back to the immediate aftermath of his…departure? disappearance? desertion? MJ is still spinning from emotion to emotion and can’t seem to land on any one for very long. She’ll admit that it’s complicated and go from there.

“Tell me about you. Tell me about college. Tell me about spending a couple years in other countries. Did you really learn Japanese?” Peter says after glossing over where he went instead of his senior year. He tells her it’s mostly boring, and it probably was, but MJ decides that maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t have to cram every single question she’s ever had for him into this precise moment. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll have another opportunity to ask him questions after tonight.

She shoves his shoulder with her foot. He’s sprawled at the end of her twin bed, polishing off the bag of popcorn like maybe she should have grabbed the pretzels, too. “Like you don’t know! You had my mom reporting on me to your aunt!”

A grin creeps across his face. “I mean, yeah. But it would be better to hear about it from you.” 

So, she tells him. She talks about living in Boston, about having to make a snap decision to leave for an internship with a professor in Lagos, where she enrolled half time at the university and also assisted with data collection for an NGO. How her mother came to visit for Christmas and ended up staying an extra two weeks. How she saw him on tv after all those underwater earthquakes hit and she wanted to tell someone but there was no one who would believe her, no one safe.

“Huh.” He gives a soft laugh. “I didn’t even know anyone was filming any of that. It sounds like a clip of us just sort of standing around afterwards being like ‘someone else is going to clean this shit up, right?’”

“That’s how I imagine you spend most of your superhero-ing time,” MJ says.

“Sadly so.” He searches around in the bottom of the bag for any small leftover pieces of popcorn.

She’s about to launch into a story about her junior year, how she spent a semester at BU before leaving again for Tokyo, when she glances at her phone and realizes in shock that it’s almost 3 am.

“Yikes. I realize neither of us have jobs to get up for in the morning, but I’m supposed to take my mom to her appointment in 6 hours so I’m kicking you out.” MJ nudges Peter again with her foot and he pretends to flop over, sound asleep. It’s weird to see this man in a black stretchy shirt that might actually be body armor and what look like tactical pants goofing around like the kid she knew. “Get up.”

Peter pops up and leaps to his feet. “Hey, so what else are you doing tomorrow?”

“ _Peter_.” She gives him a stare. “ _Why_ are you back here again? It can’t just be to hang out with me?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe just to do this.”

“No, really. You couldn’t have known I was here. I didn’t even know I was coming until my mom called. And your freakout this morning was entirely sincere. There’s no way you became that good of an actor, even in seven years.”

“Okay…well, I’m sort of just…on leave? Taking a break?”

“Meaning?”

“I’m renegotiating my terms.”

“Exactly _what_ organization are you with again?”

“Wow, something you _don’t_ know?”

“Peter!” She throws a pillow at him. “I’m not joking around. Is something serious going on?”

“Not more than usual.” Off her look, he says, “Mostly. Pretty standard stuff. I get vacations now like a normal person.”

“ _Sure_ you do.”

“Anyways. Want to do something tomorrow? After your mom’s appointment?”

“Do _something_?” she echoes like an idiot. And part of her is very aware that he’s changing the subject, that he doesn’t want to talk about his business anymore. _Mental note_.

“Yeah. I haven’t been back for so long, and neither have you. It’s like we can pretend to be tourists and see the sights. Together, if you want.”

MJ is flummoxed. She’s always liked that word but never really _felt_ it, until now. But flummoxed is exactly how she feels to have Peter Parker asking her out after all this time. Is this really happening???

“I feel like I’ve stepped into an alternate dimension or something.”

“Ugh. Those are tricky.” He grimaces.

“ _What_?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, you know I’m not going to forget you said that. Saving that for later along with follow-up questions about why you’re so uncomfortable talking about your current employment status. What I mean is, this is so unreal.” MJ slides off the bed and stands so she can advance on him, and he doesn’t back away, only watches as she comes closer. “Am I going to wake up tomorrow morning and find out that none of this really happened? Or that you’ve left again?” She reaches out to touch his face, narrowing her eyes as she takes him in again, noting the changes, but still seeing the same face, the same Peter.

“I never wanted to leave you,” he says, leaning into her hand and half closing his eyes.

MJ doesn’t know what to say. Because maybe she always knew that, and maybe it doesn’t make a difference either way.

*

So, they go do stuff together.

First, the next afternoon after they get home from her mother’s appointment, she tells her mom she’s going out for a while.

“I’m meeting up with a friend from high school,” she says. “Not sure how long.”

“Huh,” her mom says eloquently.

“What? I thought you wanted me to get out of the house?”

“Did I say anything?” Her mother eases herself into her favorite chair. The hardest part of being home and seeing her mother get sick is seeing how tired she’s getting. Her prognosis is very good, everyone keeps assuring MJ, but it doesn’t mean this whole process isn’t hard on her body. She needs lots of rest and to cut back on her usual nonstop list of activities. Swing dancing is out, her book club is meeting here for the foreseeable future, and someone else is using her season tickets. _I’m boring now_ , her mom keeps saying. _I hate it._

“You had a face. A _tone_ ,” MJ says. As someone on the receiving ends of countless admonishments to ‘watch your tone’ from this same woman, MJ is downright thrilled to be able to finally turn this back on her mother.

“Not my fault if you’re overly-sensitive.” Her mom reaches for her iPad, her glasses, and the remote control. “Got something on your conscience?”

That shuts MJ up. “Nope. Bye!”

She and Peter meet up at the bus stop by prearrangement.

“Hey! Hi!” he says. “How’s your mom? Did the appointment go okay?” he says when she walks up beside him and nudges his elbow with her own.

MJ shrugs.

“That good?” he says.

“It’s fine. She’s fine. Just cantankerous. As usual.”

“I’m sorry. I never asked. Is she going to be okay? How sick is she?”

MJ shoves her hands into the pockets of her coat and looks at her boots. “Not super sick. Just sick enough to be mad about it and mad about needing help.”

Peter nudges her boot with his own. His boots are super butch. Later, MJ vows, she will make fun of them. “Are you worried about her?” he asks.

MJ shrugs again. “Yeah. But honestly, I’m just glad that I came home instead of listening to her tell me not to. If I’d listened to her, she’d be wearing herself out insisting she’s fine. Maybe she’d eventually let May or another friend help her, but not before she got worse, probably a _lot_ worse. So, yeah. I’m worried about her, but I’m really just thankful that I decided to come home.”

She’s still looking at her feet, and Peter just sort of wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. MJ lets herself lean in. Would Peter have been this casually comforting at seventeen? MJ remembers him as awkward, earnest, genuinely caring. He doesn’t seem to second guess himself like he did, and MJ’s glad for it.

“Hey, what’s your big plan for today?” she asks after a minute.

“I think I want to go visit my old neighborhood if you don’t mind. We can get some food while we’re out, see if any of my old favorite places are still open,” he says.

“Sounds great. I’m always hungry.” MJ turns up the collar of her coat against the wind, and they’re off.

Peter points out his old building to her, takes her by Delmar’s ( _I accidently blew this place up once_ , he says. _Wow, awkward_ , MJ replies), and stops to stare silently up at the Leeds’ old apartment. Afterwards they get truck food and sit on a bench in a pigeon-filled park.

“Where do you want to go tomorrow?” Peter asks.

“Surprise me,” MJ says.

In the days that follow, MJ helps her mom prep for her surgery, actually applies for jobs, and “networks” with people from college and teaching, and then in the free spaces around that, spends time with Peter. They ride the Staten Island Ferry out to the island and then immediately reboard it for the trip back, not bothering to stay (because y’know, _Staten Island_ ) ( _I almost blew this up too, this one time_ , Peter says when they’re leaning out into the spray on the deck. _You were a walking disaster_ , MJ says, not unadmiringly. _Swinging_ , he corrects her. _A swinging disaster_.)

And at night, when he slips through her window, they talk. Peter tells her about Avengering. ( _Captain Marvel is such an asshole, but really she’s the best. I’m deeply suspicious of all cats now, though_.) MJ tells him about struggling to learn Japanese, about her hard won first-grade reading level and how much manga she consumed trying to develop her literacy skills ( _so we could go to Tokyo right now and you could navigate around the city and order food for us and everything?_ Peter asks eagerly. _Yeah, but most people switched to English if they knew it when they saw me. I didn’t exactly blend in_ , MJ says.)

One morning on a day when MJ’s mom doesn’t have an appointment, MJ stumbles downstairs in search of coffee and finds May Parker in the kitchen nook, sharing doughnuts and coffee with her mother.

“Michelle!” Peter’s aunt stands up and gives MJ a hug, pressing her cheek softly to MJ’s. “So good to see you!”

“Thanks…” MJ pulls back and searches May’s face for any hints of how she feels about Peter being home or about them hanging out, but she’s all unforced warmth, no winking or significant glances.

“Pull up a chair,” her mother says. “Have some coffee and tell May what you’ve been up to.”

And _then_ May has a tiny twinkle, her face _barely_ even moves, but her eyes smile a little more and MJ knows she _knows_. “I’d love to hear about what you think about being back in the city again, Michelle. Are you thinking you might want to stay this time?”

MJ takes the mug of coffee that her mother hands her and looks up at the two women who are both watching her expectantly, feeling very much like a bird being watched by two avid housecats.

“Uh, I don’t know…” she says slowly. “It’s great to be back, but I guess I’ve been gone long enough that it doesn’t feel like the only place for me anymore. It’s wild that New Yorkers all have this rabid need to prove that this is the best and only place to live. Once you live other places for a while you still appreciate New York, but you can see it as a great city with some great pros and some major, major cons.”

Her mother makes a derisive noise.

“No, really,” MJ says. “I love it here, but I know better than I did as a kid that there’s more out there. More places I haven’t seen yet.” She shrugs. “So, no. I don’t think I’m going to move back right now. Too much out there I haven’t seen yet.”

This is well-trod ground with her mother, but MJ takes a sip and braces herself for May’s reaction. But May only nods. “That’s pretty insightful, Michelle. I think I’m never really going to leave. I’m a New Yorker in my bones. You get out while you still can, just be sure to visit a lot.”

“Or at all,” her mother grumps.

“Hey, I’m here _now_!” MJ says.

“Yeah, it took me getting cancer to get you back in the country. I’m hoping your next visit can just be because you missed me or maybe for Christmas.”

“Sure,” MJ says. Because is she really going to get in an argument with her mother who isn’t afraid to play the cancer card? Nope.

“What are your plans for today, Michelle?” May asks, playing diplomat. “Anything fun?

“Uh.. _.” I’m chasing around the city with your nephew, but you and I are both pretending neither of us know that._ “I’m meeting an old friend and we’re seeing if we can get rush tickets to something this afternoon. Maybe gawk at Times Square. Basically, do stupid touristy stuff.” All true.

“That does sound fun! It’s so great to catch up with old friends. I think it’s just wonderful to keep up relationships that meant a lot to us over the years. I still call my elementary school best friend once a month even though we haven’t seen each other in forever. Some people are just meant to be in each other’s lives, don’t you think?”

 _Nice, May. Super subtle_ , MJ thinks. She takes another sip of coffee rather than answer, because really what can she say besides agree? But it’s good to know which way the wind is blowing.

“I don’t know about that, May,” says MJ’s mom. “Michelle and I have been fine on our own since her father left. Sometimes people shouldn’t get welcomed back, no matter how much you miss them.” Leave it to her mom to bring in a healthy dose of reality.

MJ takes a deep breath. “It really depends what they do when they come back, doesn’t it? Leaving can be bad enough, but coming back and expecting nothing to change? That won’t work.”

May nods. “I agree. No one ever stays the same, and that’s the way it should be. Sometimes you just have to see if the people you’ve become still fit together. Or if you even want to.”

MJ is definitely _not_ taking the bait here. “You are both very wise. Gotta go.” She puts down her coffee and tries to leave.

“Aren’t you even going to remind me to take my medicine?” Her mom’s eyes are amused over the rim of her mug as she takes a sip. “I’m starting to feel like you don’t care. All this running around, you’re forgetting to nag me.”

MJ looks from her mom to May and back again. Both of them are still watching her like she’s the most exciting thing at the birdfeeder. “Don’t _even_. You hate my nagging and begged me to leave the house. Enjoy some quiet time because when I come back tonight, we’re reorganizing your bathroom cabinet.”

Her mom cackles. “Defensive much? How about you stay out for dinner, May and I order in something, and we both forget about the bathroom cabinet.”

MJ narrows her eyes. “Only if you take all your medications before I call you this afternoon.”

“Deal.” Her mom takes another sip of coffee, and MJ wonders exactly who won that round.

“Have fun Michelle!” May waves. “I promise Rhonda and I will behave ourselves. Go have a good time with your friend.” Her twinkle is back, and MJ is pretty sure she just got conned by the two of them.

Nothing to do now but retreat with dignity. “You’d better. I’ll check in before your two pm dose.” She points a finger at her mom. “I’ve got my eye on you.”

“Sure thing, sweetie.” Her mom smirks. “Sure thing.”

*

MJ meets Peter at the usual corner, out of sight from both of their houses. “Hey, I think we’re in trouble if my mom and your aunt ever decide to really team up.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, his shoulder brushing comfortably against hers as he turns to walk beside her. “May has started making a lot of ‘helpful’ suggestions for places you and I can visit. Think the top of the Empire State building, carriage rides in Central Park, and you get the idea about the rest of the list.”

“Oh, _no_.” MJ covers her mouth as she laughs. “Did she just google ‘romantic places to visit in NYC’?”

“Seems that way,” he says glumly.

“So, you’re taking me somewhere really fancy after this show, right?” She nudges him with her elbow. “I’m thinking candles, Italian food, secluded nook.”

“Uh…if that’s what you want…” His confusion is hilarious. MJ considers drawing this out, messing with him further, just to see how far she can take it.

“Or…we could just get something from a hot dog cart because that would be a more authentic tourist experience and your stomach is made of lead so I know you can take it,” MJ says.

“ _Or_ …” Peter fumbles around and then pulls a brochure out of his pocket. “We could go on this walking tour of different murder locations and just get food somewhere in the neighborhood when we’re done.”

“What?” MJ snatches the brochure from his hand. “This is _amazing_. When does it start? Can we go now instead of the show?”

“Easy there. They don’t start until dark, so we have a little while. There’s even a bunch in Queens, but not until the weekend.” Peter’s smug, just _so_ pleased at her reaction. And he should be. MJ feels a thrill of excitement reading the descriptions, but underneath is a little voice whispering, _he remembered your stupid teenage obsession_. Which is better than dinner by candlelight any day.

*

MJ doesn’t ask Peter how he spends his time when they’re not together, but one evening while watching the local news with her mom, there’s a piece about a mysterious local vigilante who’s been thwarting muggings and generally being an all-around do-gooder, though with some extra flair given their seeming ability to scale walls and leap over obstacles.

“Huh,” her mom says and cuts her eyes to MJ. “Isn’t that something.”

MJ stares unblinkingly at the tv, part of her willing herself not to react, part of her thinking _of course he’s out there playing hero again. I should have fucking known. And oh, wow does he need to camouflage that ass._

“Well, tell Peter not to be too obvious about it, or else people are going to catch on,” her mother says.

“ _What_?” MJ abandons faking disinterest to stare at her mom.

“You think I’m too stupid to know what’s going on in my own house?” Her mother takes off her glasses so she can really give MJ the mom look. “Someone’s been climbing through your window every night while May’s been being tight-lipped and vague like she always gets when Peter’s in town. I have lung cancer, not brain damage.”

“Oh,” MJ says. And now she knows exactly how foolish all her teenage fantasies of having Peter sneaking through her window on the regular were. _Dang it._ “We’re just talking, if you can believe that. And no one’s supposed to know he’s here, so please don’t tell anyone.”

Her mom gave her a sour look. “I’ve kept it quiet this long. You didn’t even know I knew. If anyone’s going to blab, it isn’t going to be me.”

Well, she’s got her there.

*

That night, when Peter taps politely on her window before opening it and letting himself in as is his habit, MJ’s lying on the bed staring at the ceiling.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” she says. “My mom figured out that you’re here. Please don’t assassinate her.”

“What? I would _never_.” He flops down next to her. It’s a small bed and they overlap, arms and legs comfortably touching.

“You were pretty tense when I first ran into you. I felt sort of threatened.”

“You did? I’m sorry. I mean, it’s not great that anyone knows I’m here, but I was so freaked out at seeing you that sort of lost my head.”

MJ snickers. “So, under your personnel file does it say, ‘cool under pressure’? Or are you labeled ‘hotheaded and prone to emotional outbursts’?”

“I think I’m mostly pretty cool in a crisis. It’s not like you were ever around before when I had to make life-or-death decisions. It’s like I go stupid only when you’re around.” He says this matter-of-factly, like it’s nothing.

It’s not nothing. Not to her.

She’s twenty-four years old and not exactly inexperienced. She’s fallen in and out of love more times that she wants to count. But hearing Peter admit, even obliquely, that she _affects_ him, that she is a person likely to cause him to make poor decisions based on his feelings, well – MJ can feel shivers start in her hands and arms, traveling up to her shoulders, like a skitter of emotion under her skin. Aw, dang. Now she’s getting all metaphorical and shit. There was a reason she never took any creative writing classes. The skitter is real though, and she wraps her arms around herself, bumping into Peter where he’s pressed against her.

“Hey, are you okay? Are you getting cold?” He rolls over to look closely at her, propping himself up on his elbow and rubbing his free hand on her arm. They’d been comfortable being friendly and cuddly this whole time, sliding back into their friendship easily and letting their hands and bodies brush against each other without talking about it. Until now. Suddenly, it’s too much to have him so close.

“What are we _doing_?” she whispers and grips her elbows tightly in her hands.

Peter doesn’t ask her what she’s talking about. “I’m trying to get you back, if you want me,” he says.

“I don’t know. Will you stay this time?” She’s having trouble speaking through the catch in her throat.

“I’m trying to,” he says. _Trying_. There’s that word again. Not the unequivocal answer she’s hoping for.

“Just don’t leave again without saying anything _ever_ again. Tell me you’re going or say goodbye or _something_ ,” MJ manages to say.

“I promise.” He brushes her hair away from her face, and she knows that he might someday break this promise or her heart or both.

So, MJ leans up quickly and kisses him, letting go of herself so her arms can go around _him_. And Peter’s actually _surprised_. She can tell by the way he freezes, just for a moment his shoulders stiffening, and then his mouth opens and then he’s kissing her back, warm and eager. Why did it take them so long to get here?

MJ throws her leg over him and pushes Peter down on her bed in her childhood bedroom and hopes that her mother is well and truly asleep by now because she’s decided this is _definitely_ happening.

His black shirt and pants have got to go. She hates this color on him and they’re keeping her from what she wants the most – Peter – his skin and his real hidden self that she knows is in there somewhere under the utilitarian warrior gear and the sometimes-serious face. She’s seen more of her Peter, longer and longer as they’ve spent more time together, and now she just wants this armor off and nothing between them.

“Do you want to do this?” she asks him, her hands spread over his chest, her hair a curtain around them.

He nods. “Yes,” he says with a rasp, and then again, stronger. “ _Yes_. Please. Yes. You’ve got to know that I still want this. _You_. I still – I never – Can we try again? Now?”

“Then I want this gone,” she says, sliding her hands under the hem of his shirt. She sits back enough to allow him to tug it off, and he obediently yanks it over his head and discards it, his eyes only leaving hers long enough for the fabric to pass over his face. Then he’s back to being attentive, ready for her next directive.

Her hands drift to his chest, now fully revealed, but she hesitates, her fingers lightly touching his skin. What does it mean to be back on this path with Peter again? Would she keep going if she knew now that this is all she gets? If she could go back and do it all again, would she still kiss him on that bridge in London, knowing she would lose him?

What _stupid_ questions.

“Yes.” MJ finally answers his question as she dips down and kisses him _now_ , even if this is all she gets, she wants it. Oh, how she wants it. Him. _Peter_. MJ wants Peter now even if she knows she might not get to keep him.

His arms go tight around her, and he tastes just as good as he did the first time. This is a fantastic idea. Why haven’t they been doing this the whole time?

MJ brushes her hand over his face, lingering on his jaw, and then snatches her hand back when she gets to his hair. “I hate your hair like this. It’s so wrong.” She sits back in mock offense.

“Easier…this…way,” he says between kisses as he follows her up. “But I’ll let it grow now.”

“For me?” She’s straddling his lap and now she can slide her hands over his back. Wow, _much_ better than the bristle on his head.

“For you.” And he twines his fingers through MJ’s own hair. It’s everywhere around them, out of control. “I had a lot of fantasies about exactly this when I was seventeen. Getting to be close to you in any way I could was pretty much all I thought about for a long time.” He gently uses his grip on her hair to bring her close enough to resume kissing her, and MJ hides her welling feelings at his words in their embrace.

Which only works until it doesn’t. With a gasp, MJ breaks off their devouring kisses. This is too, too much. Too intense and she’s one more soft declaration away from bursting into tears, and well, she can’t have _that_. She’s gotta maintain her rep for being completely cool and in control at all times. “You know, maybe we should just take things slow like we would have back when we were seventeen. You can grope around _under_ my shirt and _over_ my bra and then we’ll French kiss and then say goodnight.”

“If we were doing this when we were seventeen, I could have for _sure_ come in my pants back when you got on top of me,” Peter admits with a humorous quirk of his eyebrow. “Because that would have been by far the most exciting thing that had ever _ever_ happened to me. As it is, I’m barely keeping control.”

MJ snorts, an undignified sound that she couldn’t quite smother because here’s the goofy dork again, kicking his way out from where he’d been buried by the adult who wears black and doesn’t read comic books anymore. “Oh yeah? Well, if we’re confessing, I’d have to admit that if I’d gotten you back here when we were seventeen, I definitely would have tried to get your pants off before now. That whole line about groping around over a bra was a lie. I hardly ever wore bras.”

Peter grins. “Oh, yeah? And then what? Tell me more.”

“Well,” she licks her lips, “we’re actually following my plan pretty well. You’ve climbed through my window like I always imagined you would, you’re here in my stupidly tiny little bed, and now you’re asking me what I want. Pretty much exactly the scenario I imagined.”

“This is how you imagined us?” Peter wraps her hair again in his gentle fingers and tilts her face, kissing her so softly, though he lingers with each kiss. MJ responds by sliding her hands over his bare shoulders and pulling him closer.

“Yes,” She finally gasps when they pause. “I thought I could talk you into visiting me on the nights you went on patrol. You could stop here and then we could –” She breaks off when his hands drop to find the edge of her shirt, and he slides up to gently grip her above her hips, his thumbs on either side of her belly.

“We could…?” he prompts her.

“We could try things…you know. Screw around. I wanted to try everything with you,” MJ says. “I wanted lots of chances. To mess around. To mess up. We didn’t have to be perfect. I mean, we absolutely wouldn’t have been.”

“ _Everything_?” Peter’s eyes suddenly go half-mast, like that was the point at which he stopped listening.

“Pretty much every dirty thing you can think of, I already had imagined,” MJ admits.

“I doubt that…”

“Don’t question my creativity!” MJ growls.

“When you put it like that, I absolutely will not,” he says. “And would you have forgiven me for being so overwhelmed and blowing it pretty much instantly? Because I gotta say that seventeen-year-old me would not have been able to handle _anything_ to do with you. Everything that we did would have blown my tiny mind.”

“Depends.” MJ tilts her head to one side. “Depends on how you followed it up. If you were done, then we would have been _done_.”

“Teenage me had a plan, because this was something I’d worried about.” Peter’s hands slid further up under her shirt, hot where they cupped either side of her ribcage now. “Do you want to know my plan?”

“Tell me,” MJ says.

“I’ll show you.” With a smooth roll, Peter flips the two of them, and now MJ is the one lying on the bed, her hair everywhere and Peter looming above her, his arms braced on either side of her. He dipped his mouth down to the sliver of bare skin on her stomach, revealed where her shirt had ridden up, dropping kisses along her belly before rising up to kiss her mouth again. “Can I see you? All of you?”

MJ smooths her hands over his shoulders once again and swallows. “You first.”

Peter pushes himself off of her ( _terrible_ idea, she misses his warmth instantly) and strips off his pants. _Yow._ She told him to, and he _did_ it. Nudity on command. MJ could get used to _that_. He kicks aside his clothes and is instantly back, sinking into her and letting her touch him, his eyes glittering above her. (And while this is happening, she’s remembering that shy kid who froze in embarrassment when he took his shirt off in front of her in Prague. That kid is long gone, and MJ tells her brain to _shut it_.)

She smooths her hands over his back again, and down to his ass. She gives it an experimental squeeze. Nice. _Better_ than nice. Spectacular, in fact. She nudges his face with her nose, feeling his breath hot on her cheek. “How are you holding up? Gonna outpace your teenage self?” She half-reluctantly releases his ass and slides her hand around to stroke his cock. Also, superb. And holding up well (heh) despite his efforts to set her expectations low.

He traces her neck with his mouth, lingering where it meets her shoulder, sliding the collar of her t-shirt out of the way. He’s so warm, but she shivers. “Is this your plan?” she breathes into his hair.

Peter raises his head just enough. “The start of it.” His hands are hot along her stomach. “Whenever you’re ready, I can show you the rest. Are you ready? Can I…” he stutters a little, his assurance dropping away. “…is it okay if I….do you want to keep going?”

MJ thinks about this. She really didn’t enjoy when he got up just a moment before, but then after they’d both be naked, so maybe it would be okay? _C’mon though, hurry up._ Her hesitation is making Peter feel like she’s having second thoughts, so she’d better show him otherwise. “Help me,” she says sitting up enough to hold her arms up. He tugs the hem of her shirt up and it comes off easily, spilling her hair everywhere again.

She lies back and lifts her hips in clear invitation. Peter scoots back enough to draw her pajama pants past her feet and off, tossing them away. Her underpants are actually a little fancy, because did she or did she not get dressed every morning since the day after she crashed into him hoping for the possibility that they would end up right here? (She did.) (Also she got a bunch of condoms.)

Peter freezes up right there. “Uh…wow…you’re…” And he just stops, eyes glazed.

Okay, so his open admiration is definitely a turn on, but this needs to _happen_ , and it needs to happen _now_. MJ gives him another ten seconds and sits up enough to strip off her underpants herself. This is not a moment for patience.

“Do we need to invoke your contingency plans for seventeen-year-old Peter? Did you have a Plan B for when your brain just absolutely refused to work?” She’s just a _little_ testy now.

Peter blinks and then he grins. “Sorry. You’re just so beautiful and I’m just overwhelmed. _You_ are overwhelming.” He moves closer, holding himself above her, their skin barely touching.

“Listen, you’re going to have to get over this ‘overwhelming’ bullshit pretty fast. Or we’re gonna have a problem.” MJ’s getting grumpy. She doesn’t want tentative, reverent Peter. She wants him to be present, to be _passionate_ , damnit. If they slow down enough, that shaky, fragile feeling will catch up to her, and that’s not what MJ wants to feel right now. She wants heat and _now_ and _Peter_.

“This is just – I really fucked up by leaving and never doing this with you years ago.” But he’s still grinning.

“Yeah, you did,” she agrees and yanks him against her, skin smashing against skin, and now their kiss is just a little cataclysmic. _Finally._

“Do you wanna know what my plan was?” Peter breaks off just enough to ask.

“Are we really gonna talk about this now?” MJ’s ire is rising again. “I don’t want you to use your mouth for talking right now!”

“How about I show you?” He rises up enough to give her a wicked grin and then slides down, done with words as he uses his mouth to taste her breasts, her belly, the curve of her hips, lingering but still purposefully traveling down her body. Then he raises her legs to hook her knees over his shoulders, his fingers touching her gently, then more purposefully as she responds, encouraging him with the appreciative sounds she makes, guiding him just a little so he knows the right things to focus on. His mouth is hot, and MJ thinks she might have actually growled when he first goes down. After that she has no idea what sounds she might be making because she has jettisoned both self-awareness and dignity and can only react to the intensity of the feelings radiating from being this open, this adored.

And then she feels his mouth scraping with just right amount of roughness over a very sensitive spot, his fingers working in concert, and she comes so hard she thinks maybe she’s hit her head because she just sees starbursts under her eyelids and under her skin and it’s so bright everywhere like the gaudiest explosion of warmth skittering all across her body.

“That’s… a pretty…good plan,” she gasps when she finally locates her body again on the tides of _wow_ that keep rolling in.

“Yeah?” Peter slides up next to her and drops a kiss on her forehead. “No critiques? Constructive criticism”

“Mmmmm. I will… debrief you later.” She’s actually fairly impressed with her ability to form words at this moment. Hidden talents.

Peter kisses her face softly again, just a sweet gesture, but something in MJ that was floating along with her, wells up from where she’s kept pushing it down. Something she’d been doing her best not to name or admit to, and suddenly she feels tears leaking down the sides of her face, wetting her hair at her temples. Maybe if she doesn’t move or acknowledge them, Peter won’t notice.

But of course, he notices. “MJ, are you crying?” He’s _so_ worried. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Sometimes I don’t know –”

“ _No_ , no.” Because that’s what he’d assume, that he’d done something wrong, something out of control. The tears aren’t from sadness, or at least not only from sadness, but from the release of all her anger and loss, from maybe letting it go. Though why _now_ when they’re finally together again…. But of course, that’s why it’s coming out.

MJ tries again. “I’m okay. Better than okay. Really. I feel…” and words fail her again. She feels closer to Peter than she ever has before _(it’s the sex_ , whispers her internal pragmatist. _It’s really not that deep_.) but still not close _enough_. She wants to pull him inside her own skin, wants to enfold him and keep him with her always. And it’s like for the first time this whole thing with their bodies makes sense as something more than just a fun ride, a way of passing the time. This has been cute so far, but now she wants to devour him, consume him whole, take him into her body and never let him out again. Oh, so _that’s_ what this feeling is. _This_ is where this comes from. MJ feels like she’s discovered a whole new box of emotions that she hadn’t been aware she might ever possess.

“I want you…I want you to…” Her hands fumble over his shoulders, slide down to his hips, trying to maneuver him to the exact right position, trying to express something she can’t put into words, but perhaps can show him.

“But…? Are you sure? I don’t want to – “ Oh, but he so clearly _does_ want to. MJ can see and feel how much, and she won’t take his hesitation as anything more than his kindness and love shining through in the best way he knows how, even in the midst of their tangled limbs and recklessness.

“Get over here _now_ ,” she says and doesn’t try to soften it. Peter _knows_ her. He knows what she means. She waited long enough, and it feels so good to be understood.

Peter obeys, no more talking. MJ does her best to drown him, to swallow him whole, drag him beneath her skin and never allow him out into the open air again. This feeling frightens her. It’s so out of control and there isn’t any part of her she can pretend isn’t raw and exposed. He’s pressing against her and then he’s actually inside her and the release she felt only moments before is lost as this swell of feeling overtakes her.

“MJ…” Peter says into her mouth. “I…it’s…. you…it’s always you…”And then MJ tightens her arms and legs around him as his body shakes. Then she moves sharply against him _just_ enough and this bubble around them bursts.

MJ explodes into laughter.

“Oh, god. Are you okay?” Peter pushes himself up off of her so he can see her face.

“Get back here, you idiot.” MJ clutches him tighter. “Don’t you ever cast this back at me, or I’ll make you do that again. And again.”

“What? That you _laughed_ when you came? As long as you tell me you’re okay, I won’t bring it up except for a couple…. hundred times a day…for the rest of your life.” He nips at her ear, and she giggles.

“I’m okay. I’m super…” And she _tries_ to stop giggling. Can’t.

“You’re being so weird.” Now he’s laughing too.

“Shhh…” She puts a finger to his lips. “No more talking.”

“Okay.” He buries his face in her neck.

“ _What_ did I just say?” She reaches down and pokes him in the butt.

In answer, he only kisses her neck and rolls himself off of her, keeping their bodies entwined.

“That’s better,” she grumps and tightens her arms around him. “No more talking.”

“Okay,” he says again.

“ _Shhhhhhhhhh_.” And she starts giggling again, smothering them against his skin.

*

MJ jerks awake the next morning to the sound of banging on her bedroom door.

“Michelle? Are you up?” Her mother flings the door open and then stops. “Oops. Well, isn’t this awkward. Hello, Peter. Both of you come on down as soon as you’re decent. Breakfast is ready. And your aunt is here.” she says over her shoulder as she leaves.

“Uh?” Peter says and lifts his head from MJ’s bare shoulder. “What just happened?”

Even through the closed door, MJ can hear her mother bellow as she goes downstairs, “You were right, May! He’s right here!” _Ohmifuckinggod._

“ _What just happened_???” MJ repeats as she sits up, the blankets falling off. “My mother just found us naked in bed together. I thought you were supposed to have some sort of heightened awareness to keep stuff like this from happening?”

“ _What?”_ Peter rubs his face.

“You heard me.” MJ contemplates the scene. One twin bed, two people, very naked and entwined, with clothes flung all over the floor. _I will not be embarrassed, I will_ not _. I’m an adult and I will not be embarrassed_ , she tells herself.

“Oh, shit.” Peter finally starts to wake up and register the situation. “That was your _mom_. This is a little –” He stops, runs the last minute or so back in his memory and then says, “Did she just say my _aunt_ is here?”

“Uh, huh. I refuse to be embarrassed and you should too. We’re adults and it’s none of their business.” If she keeps repeating it, she’ll actually start to believe it.

“Oh, I think they’re making it their business.” Peter rubs his face again. “And that’s not how the spidey-sense thing works. It saves me from threats but doesn’t care about humiliation or awkward situations. Like _really_ doesn’t care.”

“Well, then you should get your money back because of the two, I think awkward situations are way more of an existential threat.” She gets a flashback to the smirk on her mother’s face as she left the room. “Oh _my_ god.” She abandons being chill and buries her face in her hands.

“MJ?” Peter slides his arm around her, pulling her close, and now they’re skin to skin, which is _very_ distracting. MJ gets a flash of a very different kind of memory from only hours before and feels the flush start to rise on her face. “Are you okay?”

“Totally fine,” she says, her voice muffled in her hands. “Because we are _adults_.”

She feels him drop a light kiss on her shoulder. “It’s okay to freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out, I’m just processing.” She keeps her face hidden.

“Are you…okay?” MJ can hear a note of uncertainty in Peter’s voice and thinks that she can maybe guess what he’s really asking.

She raises her head and really looks at him. “I’m glad that happened. I really wanted that. With you.”

“Oh.” They’re so close together MJ can feel him let out a breath in relief. “Me too. I never thought I’d get another chance. I almost don’t believe this is happening.” He touches her hair, her face, looking at her with wondering eyes.

MJ accepts a kiss, two even, then gently pushes him away. “This is _definitely_ happening,” she says. “Now get up and find your pants because there are two women downstairs who are going to enjoy every minute of embarrassing us over breakfast.”

*

“Peter, honey! Good morning!” May rises enough from her chair for him to give her a kiss on her check before resuming her seat next to MJ’s mom. “Hi, Michelle!” Yes, the twinkle is _back._

MJ drops into a chair with a grunt and nod and accepts a mug.

“Thank you, Ms. Jones,” Peter says, as her mom hands one to him, so polite, so proper, as if he hadn’t been on top of MJ only a few short hours before, doing filthy things with her just across the hall from her mother. _Oops_ , MJ told herself she wasn’t going to think about that during breakfast. She takes a quick sip of her coffee and hopes that and her hair would cover whatever her face was doing.

“You’re welcome, Peter.” Her mom raises her chin and gives him a long, assessing look. “It’s good to see you again. You’ve certainly grown up and filled out.”

“Um, thanks?” Peter looks at MJ for help.

“Mom!” MJ says.

“What?” Her mother is all innocence. “I’m trying to be polite. I haven’t seen the boy in a number of years. All I’m saying is that I’ve noticed that he’s grown. Haven’t _you_? Didn’t he seem bigger to you?”

“MOM.” MJ can _not_. She knew this was coming and yet, here she is, powerless to stop it. MJ refuses to even _glance_ at May Parker, for fear of seeing her amusement.

Her mother puts a hand on her chest in a _who me?_ gesture. “Seems like you two have been spending a lot of quality time together since you’ve been home. I’d think that you two might have caught up on plenty of things you’ve missed. Isn’t that right, Peter? You’ve been getting caught up?” She looks from MJ to Peter.

“Uh, yeah. We’ve been talking a lot. It’s been… _nice_.” Peter Parker: some type of stealth Avenger, tough guy, wears black a lot, punches bad guys in the face, can stick to walls. Also: apparently helpless in the onslaught of innuendo-laden questions from his high school girlfriend’s mother.

“Nice? MJ, I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure I appreciate him saying anything to do with you is just ‘nice.’ How do _you_ feel about that?”

“Oh my god.” MJ slams the coffee mug down on the table, slopping the liquid over the rim. “You need to stop now.”

“Michelle, I was cheated out of giving this boy all kinds of speeches when you two were teenagers, now just let me have my fun now.” MJ can see how hard her mother is trying to hold in her laughter. May, however, has utterly failed and is now spluttering.

“Uh…” Peter looks wildly around the table. “I can take it, really.” And he might _not_ be lying. MJ notices a tiny smile is creeping across his face. He can’t actually be enjoying this, _can_ he? “Give me the speech I missed, Ms. Jones. Let me have it.”

“Peter!” MJ is outraged at his betrayal. How could he play right into their hands like this?

Peter shrugs. “It’s okay. Maybe I should hear it, even a few years late.”

“No! Your stunted adolescence has given you no sense of judgment here!” MJ stands up and grabs Peter by the arm, yanking him to his feet. “We’re not going to stay and listen to this.”

“Sorry Aunt May, Ms. Jones. I guess we’ve got to go.” And he’s laughing too, now, the _traitor_.

“For that you’re buying me breakfast,” MJ hisses as she drags him away from the sounds of her mother and Aunt May’s cackling.

“Sounds… _nice_ ,” he says into her ear as she propels him out the door. But he lingers a little too long, stays closer than he has to, his breath warm on her ear, and MJ shivers for no reason at all.

*

“Are we gonna talk about what happened?” MJ asks around a mouthful of bagel.

“Here? Now?” Peter looks around the tiny bagel shop where they’re standing at the only spot they could find to squeeze into at the counter.

MJ leans close to wipe a smear of cream cheese off his chin. “Sure. We can be subtle. Besides, half the people here just slept together too, so no one cares what we got up to.”

Peter quickly looks around at the other bagel shop customers. “If you say so.”

“C’mon. This isn’t classified intel we’re talking about. This is you and me. We don’t have to mention the stuff that you’re twitchy about. What happened last night has absolutely nothing to do with your job.”

“Okay.” He dips his head quickly. MJ thinks she sees him smile. “What do you wanna talk about?”

MJ takes a deep breath. “You said, before we did all that, that you were trying to get me back. What does that mean?”

Peter definitely smiles. “Just what I said. I want another chance with you. I want you in any way I can have you.”

MJ shakes away the thrill that rushes across her body at his words. “ _How_? Our lives right now are both suspended from reality. This isn’t how you usually spend your time, is it? And I’m only staying here until my mom is better.”

“I don’t know. But I never thought I’d see you again, and if I did, I thought you’d hate me. I’m not wasting this chance, MJ. I’m not. I know I’m being weird and vague about….my job…but even before I saw you, things were changing. I can’t promise anything at all, but I just want this chance. To see if you can still…do you think that you could still….?”

The loud chatter around them drops away. “It’s been seven years, Peter. We’re not kids anymore. We don’t even really know each other now,” MJ says quietly.

Peter doesn’t have to lean in to hear her – stupid spider hearing – but he does anyways, his mouth by her ear again. “Tell me what you want. If this isn’t what you want, just say so, and I’ll stop. I’ll leave you alone. You’ll never see me again, except maybe on a Christmas card from May addressed to your mom.”

MJ tries to joke. “Let me guess? You in an ugly Christmas sweater with a cat in your arms?”

“MJ. _Please_ ,” he says. “Just tell me what you want.”

MJ feels like her arms have gone numb. Never see him again. For a split second she imagines that. No Peter. Ever again. Tries out what that feels like. She already knows. She could do it. She’s done it before, and she knows it’s survivable. But now she can choose. He’s asking what she wants this time. It’s her choice.

Her words come out in a rush. “Yes, I want you. We’ll figure it out. Even if you can’t stay.”

Peter sighs and leans his forehead against hers. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

MJ enjoys this for a long moment, ignoring the noisy people all around and snuggling closer to Peter. Then, “But you’ve got to start standing up to my mom. For real. Don’t let her mess with you, or we’re through.”

Peter sits up slightly. “But I want her to like me!”

 _Then don’t break my heart,_ MJ thinks _. Again_. But what she actually says is, “She’ll like you better if you don’t take her shit. Trust me.”

“Insider tip. Got it. Don’t be a doormat.” He scrunches up his face and MJ is struck painfully by the familiarity of his expression. “I feel like there’s a double meaning in that.”

MJ leans into him and swipes his bagel. Cinnamon raisin. Not bad. “You always were a smart kid.”

*

The next night, Peter comes through the window and doesn’t speak, just crawls into bed with her. _Wow, I could get used to this_ , MJ thinks as she wraps her arms around him. And then she immediately pushes that thought away. This can’t last. Won’t last.

And it doesn’t.

Two nights later, Peter taps on her window and after he climbs on through only stands in the middle of the room, uncertain what to do with his hands.

They overlap each other.

“I have something to tell you –” MJ says.

“– I have to go,” he says.

MJ gets to the questions first. “Where? Why?”

“I…can’t say right now.”

MJ shrugs.

Peter shrugs too. Relents. “California again. Most weird shit seems to happen there. Or Florida. It’s getting a little repetitive.”

“How long?”

“I really don’t know. Not long, I hope.”

“I don’t know what ‘not long’ means to you.”

“A couple weeks, probably. I have to go, to help with this…situation, and also, to finish something. And then, I’m coming back.”

MJ notices he doesn’t swear or promise. “When are you leaving?”

“Now. They’re inbound to pick me up.”

“That’s…” _Insane. Inhuman. Cruel_. “…soon.”

“I wasn’t going to leave without telling you,” he says. “Because…. of everything. I told them I wouldn’t leave before seeing you.”

“And you’re coming back _here_? Not just leaving for space or something?” This seems like an important thing to clarify.

“Yes.” He sees her skeptical eyebrow. “I intend to.” He frowns. “What did you have to tell me?”

“I’m leaving too.” She blows out a long breath. “I might not even be here when you get back. It’s not for certain, but I’ve been offered a job. In New Orleans. I’m actually really excited about it. My friend Elise asked me to come work for her art education program that partners with the schools there. My mom is recovering, doesn’t need me as much, and I think I’m starting to annoy her. More than starting to. _Definitely_ annoying her. I’m gonna take it.”

“When?” Peter asks.

“It starts in three weeks. I’m probably going to buy a car and drive down there, so I’d have to leave sooner.”

Peter doesn’t say anything, but his jaw is working.

MJ wants to be cool, but she definitely wasn’t cool last time and pretending otherwise sure didn’t get her anything. This is her moment to tell him exactly how she feels, the chance she didn’t get before. “Peter, please. Don’t just go like this. Give me an email address, cell phone number, _anything_ I can use to reach you, and this doesn’t have to be so uncertain. This is the twenty-first century. People go places all the time. We can be pen pals. I’ll friend you on the social media platform of your choice. This doesn’t have to be like last time.” MJ can hear herself pleading and she hates it.

“I know,” he says finally. “I know. I just thought I’d get more time.”

“I got more time with you than I ever imagined I would,” MJ says. “But that doesn’t mean it’s enough.”

“Give me your phone,” he says, brusque and unreadable.

Mutely, she hands it over and watches him punch in a number.

“I probably can’t answer if you call, but I can text when I get a chance.”

“Good, that’s good. That’s something.” MJ looks at the number and makes sure she saves it.

“I’ve got to go,” he says. Now, Peter looks miserable but resigned so she doesn’t argue, just opens up her arms and he steps into them.

Then, he leaves.

*

MJ takes the job. She talks to Elise and the more she learns, the more eager she is to get started. She can tell her mom is relieved that she doesn’t actually have to kick her out either. The bickering between them lightens up considerably now that there’s an expiration date on their housemate situation.

The city itself is wearing on MJ, more and more. Without her touristy jaunts with Peter, she’s stuck with the everyday petty annoyances that every New Yorker learns to live with: grime everywhere, ridiculous prices, evidence of people constantly being shitty to each other. Nothing unique to Queens, or NYC for that matter, but it’s all wrapped up in a sameness that MJ resents. Well, she doesn’t have to. She can go.

She gets ready. Her mom grumbles about it, but MJ makes sure she’s well past the most dangerous exit ramps from recovery such as failing to take her medication or skipping her follow-up appointments. And in her free times, MJ scans the dark corners of the internet for rumors of Avengers-level action on the West Coast. But it’s hard to sort the shitposts from the real scoops and she gives up. If Peter gets torn apart by a monster in the course of saving the planet, May will tell her eventually.

MJ texts him with updates, but Peter only texts her twice. Once to say _congratulations!_ when she tells him she’s taken the job and how she’s excited about it, and once in what must have been the middle of the night Pacific Time (if that’s the time zone he’s actually in) to say _I miss you_.

*

MJ doesn’t have a lot to pack this time. Her suitcases get refilled, of course, plus a choice selection of books that fit into one box. She accepts the bedding her mom offers her plus a few plants, a novelty she couldn’t partake of when she was flying around the world, though she can’t load _too_ much into the tiny car she bought. It runs fine but won’t take a lot of extras. She’s subletting a furnished studio for a couple months which means she refuses all the kitchen supplies her mom tries to shove into the back seat and won’t even discuss the coffee table.

“You’re the one who’s always telling me that I have too much shit. Here, take this.”

“I don’t need your extra roasting pan,” MJ says with disgust. “Offer me your blender and then we’ll talk.”

“No!” Her mom says. “Absolutely not. I need that. I’m feeling better and it’s getting on towards margarita season.”

As MJ loads her car, the smell of spring is in the air. Well, the smell of spring in the city, which can be special in so many disgusting ways. All part of the many reasons why MJ is fine moving on to another place, another new city where she’d get to explore and learn everything about it for the first time, bad smells included. She’d never actually been to New Orleans before so it’s completely possible that this will turn out to be a terrible mistake. Or maybe it would be a grand adventure. Maybe both. MJ never quite knows when she starts out which way it’s going to go, but that never stops her from leaving.

“Okay, I think I’ve got everything secured,” MJ says, straightening up and slamming the trunk shut. “I’ll check my room one more time and then head out.”

“You should take more books with you,” her mother says. “You’re not flying anywhere, take more goddamn books. I keep having this recurring nightmare that the second story collapses from the weight of your shelves.”

“What? Really?” MJ’s a little startled. She didn’t know her mom felt so strongly about her library. “Um, okay. I’ll pack another box.”

“Pack _two_ ,” her mom says.

“I don’t have enough room,” MJ protests.

“You do. You have plenty of room. Right here. Put them in the passenger seat up front.”

“What? _No_. That’s not safe.”

“Sure, it is. Just put them there and buckle them in.” Her mom points to the empty seat.

MJ doesn’t say anything, but her mom doesn’t notice her silence. “Go get another box. You’ve still got time to get out of the city before rush hour.”

MJ trudges upstairs and into her room one last time. She wants to feel something about leaving it again, something like sadness, but actually she’s beyond ready to be gone again, and this time she knows she’ll be back, probably sooner than she wants to be. It’s so much easier to visit when you’re on the same continent. She grabs a box and starts choosing (more) books. Some she hasn’t read in a while, some comfort reads, a good mix. MJ seals up the box and then checks the window one last time, making sure it’s locked.

Nothing else left to do.

Her mom is squinting at something on her phone when MJ comes out of the house, her glasses pushed down to the end of her nose and her face close to the screen. MJ opens up the passenger door and plops the box into the seat. Should she actually buckle it in? Probably, just to be safe.

Before she can click the latch, her mom is beside her. “Never mind about the books, Michelle. You shouldn’t overload your car.” Her mom heaves the box back out of the car and shuffles it to the porch, dropping it with a _thud_.

“Mom, what are you _doing_?” MJ asks.

“You were right. Don’t take so many books.” Her mom rejoins her at the curb.

“Okay.” _Very weird_. “Well, then I should go.” MJ goes in for a hug and her mom dodges, ducking MJ’s arms and stepping away.

“Wait a second. I think you should…I’ve got some leftovers you should take to snack on while you drive.” Her mom spins and heads back to the house.

“Mom!” MJ actually stamps her foot. “What is going on?” Her mom just waves a dismissive hand as she climbs the porch steps.

Faintly, MJ hears someone calling from down the street. She turns to see May Parker jogging down the sidewalk, her huge orange cat in her arms. “Wait!” May calls.

MJ stares. Her mom has paused going into the house, returning instead to stand next to MJ. “What’s going on?” MJ asks her. Her mom pats her arm.

May jogs up and stops, not even out of breath despite carrying what must be at least sixteen pounds of cat. “Sorry! So sorry! He escaped out of the door when I tried to run down here, and I couldn’t let him get away. He’s such a bad cat!”

This explains nothing. “Why are you running here, May?” MJ had said goodbye to May yesterday, calmly but warmly, she had thought. (Okay, so she’d been repeating _don’t make it weird, don’t make it weird_ while she accepted May’s hug, but all in all MJ had thought she’d succeeded.) MJ has a clutch somewhere in the region of her chest that’s hoping she already knows what May’s answer will be.

“He’s on his way. But you weren’t answering your phone,” May says.

MJ’s phone is plugged into the car charger already. And no, she hasn’t been checking it.

“Peter?” MJ says, because she needs to hear May say it.

“Peter, of course. They’re dropping him off. Hopefully not literally, but you never know with those clowns.” May rolls her eyes.

MJ looks up. “He’s coming here? Now?” The street is shaded with trees and she can’t see anything incoming.

“Yes, just _don’t_ leave.” May leans towards MJ and clamps down on her wrist, letting go of the cat’s hindquarters. MJ isn’t planning on jumping into her car and roaring away, in fact, she’s pretty much frozen, watching May scanning the street and the orange cat paddling its legs, trying to escape.

It’s quite the anticlimax when a sleek black town car purrs up to them and Peter leaps out.

“Hey,” he says. He slams the door and doesn’t look back. The car barely waits for him to clear before it peels away. Rude.

MJ looks at him. “Hey.” His hair is infinitesimally longer and infinitely better. He’s not wearing black, instead a boring plain t-shirt and jeans. Baby steps.

Peter doesn’t even glance at her mother or May. “I’m here,” he says. “I made it.” He’s only looking at her.

“Great timing. I was just about to leave.” MJ’s heart is hammering. Who is she kidding? He looks fantastic.

“Am I too late? Can I come with you? Please?” His hands are on hers, and he’s looking at her with so much hope. _I really like you_ , says a ghost in her ear.

MJ realizes she’s staring, and everyone is staring at her, _waiting_ , and then she laughs. “Where’s your luggage?”

Peter shrugs. “I can get a toothbrush somewhere.” But he’s smiling now.

“She saved you a spot,” her mom says and jerks her head at the front seat, now empty and available.

“Can I?” Peter is still waiting for her answer. _Do you still want me?_ his big eyes ask her.

MJ doesn’t make him suffer. “Get in. We’re going to Louisiana.”

May whoops and her mother cheers.

Peter grins and hugs her tight. So tight.

MJ can see her mom and May over Peter’s shoulder, and they’re laughing like loons. What manipulative jerks. The cat doesn’t look impressed. He’s given up and just dangles in May’s arms.

MJ pulls back to look at Peter and he’s grinning so wide. “Have you ever been to New Orleans? Because I haven’t.”

“New Orleans?” He says excitedly. “I was there once, but only saw the stupid safe house and the disaster site. Swamp monster. With you would be so much better.”

They don’t actually just pile into the car and leave that minute, though that would have been the most dramatic. They run down to May’s house where Peter does actually pack a bag and then there’s more hugging and exclaiming and offers of snacks for the road.

Finally, though, MJ slides into the driver’s seat with Peter beside her and they pull away, waving at her mother and May out their windows as they drive.

“Come home for Christmas or else we’re coming there!” Her mom yells.

“We’re coming down no matter what!” May adds in a shout. “Get a futon.”

“They’re not staying with us,” MJ snarls to Peter as he leans out the window, waving until they’re out of sight.

“Aw, could be fun?” Peter hedges.

“ _No_. My mom and I are much better friends when we don’t have to share a bathroom. They can get a hotel room. Or an Airbnb. Sleep in an above ground crypt. _Anywhere_ else.”

He pouts a little and MJ tries hard not to give in. Peter pouting? Where’s that no-nonsense tough guy? They’re the same person, MJ knows. Just another aspect of him, same as Spider-Man. She enjoys the pout for a moment and then tries to make him smile.

“You know, I half expected them to break a bottle over the hood as we left. Like we were launching out to sea for the first time, or something. Our maiden voyage.”

“Yeah?” Peter perks up. “Or for them to throw rice or something. They had this really momentous vibe to them, didn’t they?”

“Yeah.” MJ snorts. “Like they were watching us elope or blast off for the moon.”

“I’m glad that May was so happy. I feel like I’ve cheated her out of so many of these fun things.”

“Yeah, letting her watch you run away with me totally makes up for not seeing you graduate,” MJ deadpans.

“Wow. Ouch.” Peter looks for something to throw at her.

“I’m right.” MJ concentrates as she merges into traffic and the silence starts.

Here’s the real test. MJ can feel her shoulders tensing up. It’s all very well and good to make an impulsive romantic decision to run away with your high school boyfriend who you’ve barely seen in seven years. But now they’re stuck together in real life with hours ahead of them alone in a tiny car, fighting over the radio, with awkward silences galore. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe everything about them was better left in the past. Maybe everything that happened in the last few months was just a way of putting each other behind them.

“Hey, so do you want me to ever drive?” Peter asks.

“ _Can_ you drive?” MJ’s surprised.

“How hard can it be to drive a car after flying jets and stuff?”

MJ refuses to act impressed. “Plenty different, you nerd. There’s actually traffic, for one.”

“Navigator it is.” Peter stretches out. “And snack wrangler. And I nominate myself as tour guide as well. This might be my first real road trip? I’m not sure what counts these days. Can we stop at some roadside attractions? I would love that. Should I start looking stuff up? Which route were you thinking about taking?”

He’s so bouncy and a little hyper, so eager. MJ is filled with a rush of something, something heady and sweet that she can’t quite name. Well, fuck it all. Fuck caution, she decides. Bring on the awkward. Bring on the disagreements and the discomforts of reality. She can take it. They can take it.

His head is bent over his phone as he pulls up maps and then he stops, looks at her. “I should have…I should have asked you about coming in a different way, shouldn’t I? Less public. Not in front of them – May and your mom. I hope you didn’t feel like you had to say yes. I don’t really have to come with you. We can talk over the phone or I can visit. You know, take it slow. Whatever. I’d understand if this is way more than you want to sign up for right now. You can always change your mind. Do you really want me to come? Truly?”

The bounce is suddenly being contained, held in check, as he waits, as he listens for her answer. MJ can feel his eyes on her as she keeps her own on the road, a good excuse for not looking at him. Plus, city traffic is no joke. Rush hour is really an all-day affair.

MJ checks her blind spot and merges across three lanes before answering. “Don’t you _dare_ try to back out of this now. I’ve locked the doors and we’re going fifty miles an hour. You’re stuck with me,” she growls.

She can almost feel the brilliance of his grin. He beams at her for a moment before saying, “You’re forgetting who you’re dealing with. I could be out of his car in three seconds if I wanted. Automatic locks be damned”

“ _If_ you wanted?”

“I’m good.” He watches her for a few miles as she concentrates on getting out of the city before finally saying, “Hey, I need to tell you something.”

“Should I pull over first?” MJ tries to joke because he sounds really fucking portentous.

“The reason why I had to go back, the reason why I was being weird about telling you stuff…even before I saw you, I was planning on leaving, on getting out. I just needed time to finish dismantling Edith.”

“Edith?” For a second MJ has a flash of him murdering an elderly robot before she remembers Tony Stark’s criminally invasive weapon/AI. “Oh, jeez. I’d repressed everything about that atrocity. Don’t tell me that’s been circling the earth ever since you left.” She shudders.

“Uh, yeah. Well, not anymore. I sort of…took what you said to heart.”

“What I said?”

“You know, on the plane.”

MJ had given him a scathing mini-lecture about how dangerous she thought E.D.I.T.H. had been on the plane ride back from London…seven years ago. Wow, had that _not_ been at the top of her memories of Peter at _all._ “Uh…I’m…” _Impressed? Flattered?_ “Horrified that it survived so long and that those suits who kidnapped you might have gotten their hands on it.”

His mouth is a line. “They never did. And now they can’t. It took a while, but the whole system is gone. That’s why I stayed so long. And just when I was at the point of being done…you reappeared. I took it as a sign. A sign to fucking finish it and get out.”

MJ shudders. “I’m awed by your eloquence.”

Peter scrunches up his face. “Don’t be a jerk.”

“No, really. I mean it. My whole mission in life is to be a harbinger of something. Change or whatever. I’m so beyond thrilled to be like a messenger of doom telling you to finally put a potentially murderous AI in the ground for good.”

“Great! Then you’re like, totally winning, because that’s how I see you.”

“Cool.” MJ pauses. “But why didn’t you tell me before?”

Peter taps on the window, looks out at passing traffic. “In case it didn’t work. In case I fucked it up and had to go back or whatever.”

“Oh.” _Not_ because he didn’t want her to know. “What do you want to do now? Now that you’re done being a full-time hero. Part-time hero? Or are you retired?”

“I’m gonna do whatever I want. Exactly what I’m doing.” He shoots a smile at her, which she definitely sees even though she’s keeping her eyes on the road. “I have some ideas for what comes next. I’m not just going to go sleep on your floor and mooch your groceries.”

“I wasn’t worried.” _Time to tell him_. “Um, so. There was one thing that I haven’t told _you_ about, either. One stop I was planning on making along the way. Whether or not you came with me.” MJ can see him perk up in her peripheral vision. “We’re going via Georgia.”

“Georgia?”

“Atlanta. Georgia Tech to be exact. So put that into google maps.”

She can see him obediently typing that in. “Okay, why?”

“Because…” She takes a deep breath. “Because I called Ned and that’s where he’s going to school. I made plans to meet up with him.”

“Ned…” Peter says.

MJ shoots him a quick glance and another before she has to look back to the road. She can’t quite parse his expression. “He’s in the PhD program there…he’s good. And he wants to see us…”

Peter straightens from his slouch. “It says it’s gonna take 13 hours to get to Atlanta, but that’s if you go the speed limit, right? And it’s already afternoon and you were thinking of stopping overnight, but what if we drive through the night? We’d get there in the morning. That would be the fastest, right? I could take over driving. Honest, I’m a good driver, even though I don’t have my license. I could drive and you could sleep in the car, and we’d get there that much faster –”

“Peter.” MJ grabs his hand across the parking brake. “Ned is expecting us _tomorrow afternoon_. It will be better if we get there without killing ourselves on the road.”

He goes still. “Us? Me?” Like it’s the first time he really understood what she said.

“Yeah. Us. _You_.”

“You told him I was coming?”

“I told him you’d try, and that was enough.”

Peter grips her hand tightly with his. “And he wants to see me? Really?”

“Of course.”

“I think I’m gonna need a minute.” Peter looks out the window, his hand over his face, keeping his near-bruising grip on her fingers with his other.

“Do whatever you want. You’ve got all the time you need now,” MJ says, and steers the car south, out of the city.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Marvel Studios, This had better be canon divergent, Or Else.
> 
> Also, this was pretty much the exact opposite of my fic [Keepsake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22778002). So if you hated Peter's decision in this story, swing on over and read about him making a totally different choice. Ain't fanfic grand?


End file.
